THE ARGUMENT

Thetis presenting armour to her son,
He calls a court, with full reflection
Of all his wrath; takes of the king of men
Free-offer’d gifts. All take their breakfast then;
He only fasting, arms, and brings abroad
The Grecian host, and (hearing the abode
Of his near death by Xanthus prophesied)
The horse, for his so bold presage, doth chide.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

Ταυ̑ gives the anger period,
And great Achilles comes abroad.

The morn arose, and from the ocean, in her saffron robe,
Gave light to all, as well to Gods, as men of th’ under globe.
Thetis stoop’d home, and found the prostrate person of her son
About his friend, still pouring out himself in passión;
A number more being heavy consorts to him in his cares.
Amongst them all Thetis appear’d and, sacred comforters,
Made these short words: “Though we must grieve, yet bear it thus, my son,
It was no man that prostrated, in this sad fashión,
Thy dearest friend; it was a God that first laid on his hand,
Whose will is law. The Gods’ decrees, no human must withstand.
Do thou embrace this fabric of a God, whose hand before
Ne’er forg’d the like; and such as yet, no human shoulder wore.”
Thus, setting down, the precious metal of the arms was such
That all the room rung with the weight of every slend’rest touch.
Cold tremblings took the Myrmidons; none durst sustain, all fear’d
T’ oppose their eyes; Achilles yet, as soon as they appear’d,
Stern Anger enter’d. From his eyes, as if the day-star rose,
A radiance terrifying men did all the state enclose.
At length he took into his hands the rich gift of the God,
And, much pleas’d to behold the art that in the shield he show’d,
He brake forth into this applause: “O mother, these right well
Show an immortal finger’s touch; man’s hand must never deal
With arms again. Now I will arm; yet, that no honour make
My friend forgotten, I much fear, lest with the blows of flies
His brass-inflicted wounds are fil’d; life gone, his person lies
All apt to putrefactión.” She bade him doubt no harm
Of those offences, she would care, to keep the petulant swarm
Of flies, that usually taint the bodies of the slain,
From his friend’s person. Though a year, the earth’s top should sustain
His slaughter’d body, it should still rest sound, and rather hold
A better state than worse, since time that death first made him cold.
And so bade call a council, to dispose of new alarms,
Where, to the king, that was the pastor of that flock in arms,
He should depose all anger, and put on a fortitude
Fit for his arms. All this his pow’rs with dreadful strength indued.
She, with her fair hand, still’d into the nostrils of his friend
Red nectar and ambrosia; with which she did defend
The corse from putrefactión. He trod along the shore,
And summon’d all th’ heroic Greeks, with all that spent before
The time in exercise with him, the masters, pilots too,
Vict’lers, and all. All, when they saw Achilles summon so,
Swarm’d to the council, having long left the laborious wars.
To all these came two halting kings, true servitors of Mars,
Tydides and wise Ithacus, both leaning on their spears,
Their wounds still painful; and both these sat first of all the peers.
The last come was the king of men, sore wounded with the lance
Of Coon Antenorides. All set, the first in utterance
Was Thetis’ son, who rose and said: “Atrides, had not this
Conferr’d most profit to us both, when both our enmities
Consum’d us so, and for a wench, whom, when I choos’d for prise,
In laying Lyrnessus’ ruin’d walls amongst our victories,
I would to heav’n, as first she set her dainty foot aboard,
Diana’s hand had tumbled off, and with a jav’lin gor’d!
For then th’ unmeasurable earth had not so thick been gnawn,
In death’s convulsions, by our friends, since my affects were drawn
To such distemper. To our foe, and to our foe’s chief friend,
Our jar brought profit; but the Greeks will never give an end
To thought of what it prejudic’d them. Past things yet past our aid;
Fit grief for what wrath rul’d in them, must make th’ amends repaid
With that necessity of love, that now forbids our ire;
Which I with free affects obey. ’Tis for the senseless fire
Still to be burning, having stuff; but men must curb rage still,
Being fram’d with voluntary pow’rs, as well to check the will
As give it reins. Give you then charge, that for our instant fight
The Greeks may follow me to field, to try if still the night
Will bear out Trojans at our ships. I hope there is some one,
Amongst their chief encouragers, will thank me to be gone,
And bring his heart down to his knees in that submissión.”
The Greeks rejoic’d to hear the heart of Peleus’ mighty son
So qualified. And then the king (not rising from his throne
For his late hurt) to get good ear, thus order’d his reply:
“Princes of Greece, your states shall suffer no indignity,
If, being far off, ye stand and hear; nor fits it such as stand
At greater distance, to disturb the council now in hand
By uproar, in their too much care of hearing. Some, of force,
Must lose some words; for hard it is, in such a great concourse
(Though hearers’ ears be ne’er so sharp) to touch at all things spoke;
And in assemblies of such thrust, how can a man provoke
Fit pow’r to hear, or leave to speak? Best auditors may there
Lose fittest words, and the most vocal orator fit ear.
My main end then, to satisfy Pelides with reply,
My words shall prosecute; to him my speech especially
Shall bear direction. Yet I wish, the court in general
Would give fit ear; my speech shall need attentión of all.
Oft have our peers of Greece much blam’d my forcing of the prise
Due to Achilles; of which act, not I, but destinies,
And Jove himself, and black Erinnys (that casts false mists still
Betwixt us and our actions done, both by her pow’r and will)
Are authors. What could I do then? The very day and hour
Of our debate, that Fury stole in that act on my pow’r.
And more; all things are done by strife; that ancient seed of Jove,
Ate, that hurts all, perfects all, her feet are soft, and move
Not on the earth, they bear her still aloft men’s heads, and there
The harmful hurts them. Nor was I alone her prisoner,
Jove, best of men and Gods, hath been; not he himself hath gone
Beyond her fetters, no, she made a woman put them on;
For when Alcmena was to vent the force of Hercules
In well-wall’d Thebes, thus Jove triumph’d: ‘Hear, Gods and Goddesses,
The words my joys urg’d: In this day, Lucina, bringing pain
To labouring women, shall produce into the light of men
A man that all his neighbour kings shall in his empire hold,
And vaunt that more than manly race whose honour’d veins enfold
My eminent blood.’ Saturnia conceiv’d a present sleight,
And urg’d confirmance of his vaunt t’ infringe it; her conceit
In this sort urg’d: ‘Thou wilt not hold thy word with this rare man;
Or, if thou wilt, confirm it with the oath Olympian,
That whosoever falls this day betwixt a woman’s knees,
Of those men’s stocks that from thy blood derive their pedigrees,
Shall all his neighbour towns command.’ Jove, ignorant of fraud,
Took that great oath, which his great ill gave little cause t’ applaud.
Down from Olympus’ top she stoop’d, and quickly reach’d the place
In Argos where the famous wife of Sthenelus, whose race
He fetch’d from Jove by Perseus, dwelt. She was but sev’n months gone
With issue, yet she brought it forth; Alcmena’s matchless son
Delay’d from light, Saturnia repress’d the teeming throes
Of his great mother. Up to heav’n she mounts again, and shows,
In glory, her deceit to Jove. ‘Bright-light’ning Jove,’ said she,
‘Now th’ Argives have an emperor; a son deriv’d from thee
Is born to Persean Sthenelus, Eurystheus his name,
Noble and worthy of the rule thou swor’st to him.’ This came
Close to the heart of Jupiter; and Ate, that had wrought
This anger by Saturnia, by her bright hair he caught,
Held down her head, and over her made this infallible vow:
‘That never to the cope of stars should reascend that brow,
Being so infortunate to all.’ Thus, swinging her about,
He cast her from the fi’ry heav’n; who ever since thrust out
Her fork’d sting in th’ affairs of men. Jove ever since did grieve,
Since his dear issue Hercules did by his vow achieve
The unjust toils of Eurystheus. Thus fares it now with me,
Since under Hector’s violence the Grecian progeny
Fell so unfitly by my spleen; whose falls will ever stick
In my griev’d thoughts: my weakness yet (Saturnius making sick
The state my mind held) now recur’d, th’ amends shall make ev’n weight
With my offence. And therefore rouse thy spirits to the fight
With all thy forces; all the gifts, propos’d thee at thy tent
Last day by royal Ithacus, my officers shall present.
And, if it like thee, strike no stroke, though never so on thorns
Thy mind stands to thy friend’s revenge, till my command adorns
Thy tents and coffers with such gifts, as well may let thee know
How much I wish thee satisfied.” He answer’d: “Let thy vow,
Renown’d Atrides, at thy will be kept, as justice would,
Or keep thy gifts; ’tis all in thee. The council now we hold
Is for repairing our main field with all our fortitude.
My fair show made brooks no retreat, nor must delays delude
Our deed’s expectance. Yet undone the great work is. All eyes
Must see Achilles in first fight depeopling enemies,
As well as counsel it in court; that ev’ry man set on
May choose his man to imitate my exercise upon.”
Ulysses answer’d: “Do not yet, thou man made like the Gods,
Take fasting men to field. Suppose, that whatsoever odds
It brings against them with full men, thy boundless eminence
Can amply answer, yet refrain to tempt a violence.
The conflict wearing out our men was late, and held as long,
Wherein, though most Jove stood for Troy, he yet made our part strong
To bear that most. But ’twas to bear, and that breeds little heart.
Let wine and bread then add to it; they help the twofold part,
The soul and body, in a man, both force and fortitude.
All day men cannot fight and fast, though never so indued
With minds to fight, for, that suppos’d, there lurks yet secretly
Thirst, hunger, in th’ oppresséd joints, which no mind can supply.
They take away a marcher’s knees. Men’s bodies throughly fed,
Their minds share with them in their strength; and, all day combated,
One stirs not, till you call off all. Dismiss them then to meat,
And let Atrides tender here, in sight of all this seat,
The gifts he promis’d. Let him swear before us all, and rise
To that oath, that he never touch’d in any wanton wise
The lady he enforc’d. Besides, that he remains in mind
As chastely satisfied; not touch’d, or privily inclin’d
With future vantages. And last, ’tis fit he should approve
All these rites at a solemn feast in honour of your love,
That so you take no mangled law for merits absolute.
And thus the honours you receive, resolving the pursuit
Of your friend’s quarrel, well will quit your sorrow for your friend.
And thou, Atrides, in the taste of so severe an end,
Hereafter may on others hold a juster government;
Nor will it aught impair a king, to give a sound content
To any subject soundly wrong’d.” “I joy,” replied the king,
“O Laertiades, to hear thy lib’ral counselling;
In which is all decorum kept, nor any point lacks touch
That might be thought on to conclude a reconcilement such
As fits example, and us two. My mind yet makes me swear,
Not your impulsion; and that mind shall rest so kind and clear,
That I will not forswear to God. Let then Achilles stay,
Though never so inflam’d for fight, and all men here I pray
To stay, till from my tents these gifts be brought here, and the truce
At all parts finish’d before all. And thou of all I choose,
Divine Ulysses, and command to choose of all your host
Youths of most honour, to present, to him we honour most,
The gifts we late vow’d, and the dames. Mean space about our tents
Talthybius shall provide a boar, to crown these kind events
With thankful sacrifice to Jove, and to the God of Light.”
Achilles answer’d: “These affairs will show more requisite,
Great king of men, some other time, when our more free estates
Yield fit cessation from the war, and when my spleen abates;
But now, to all our shames besides, our friends by Hector slain
(And Jove to friend) lie unfetch’d off. Haste, then, and meat your men;
Though, I must still say, my command would lead them fasting forth,
And all together feast at night. Meat will be something worth,
When stomachs first have made it way with venting infamy,
And other sorrows late sustain’d, with long’d-for wreaks, that lie
Heavy upon them, for right’s sake. Before which load be got
From off my stomach, meat nor drink, I vow, shall down my throat,
My friend being dead, who digg’d with wounds, and bor’d through both his feet,
Lies in the entry of my tent, and in the tears doth fleet
Of his associates. Meat and drink have little merit then
To comfort me; but blood, and death, and deadly groans of men.”
The great in counsels yet made good his former counsels thus:
“O Peleus’ son, of all the Greeks by much most valorous,
Better and mightier than myself no little with thy lance
I yield thy worth; in wisdom, yet, no less I dare advance
My right above thee, since above in years, and knowing more.
Let then thy mind rest in thy words. We quickly shall have store
And all satiety of fight, whose steel heaps store of straw
And little corn upon a floor, when Jove, that doth withdraw
And join all battles, once begins t’ incline his balances,
In which he weighs the lives of men. The Greeks you must not press
To mourning with the belly; death hath nought to do with that
In healthful men that mourn for friends. His steel we stumble at,
And fall at, ev’ry day, you see, sufficient store, and fast.
What hour is it that any breathes? We must not use; more haste,
Than speed holds fit for our revenge. Nor should we mourn too much.
Who dead is, must be buriéd. Men’s patience should be such,
That one day’s moan should serve one man. The dead must end with death,
And life last with what strengthens life. All those that held their breath
From death in fight the more should eat, that so they may supply
Their fellows that have stuck in field, and fight incessantly.
Let none expect reply to this, nor stay; for this shall stand
Or fall with some offence to him that looks for new command,
Whoever in dislike holds back. All join then, all things fit
Allow’d for all; set on a charge, at all parts answering it.”
This said, he chose, for noblest youths to bear the presents, these:
The sons of Nestor, and with them renown’d Meriones,
Phylides, Thoas, Lycomed, and Meges, all which went,
And Menalippus, following Ulysses to the tent
Of Agamemnon. He but spake, and with the word the deed
Had join’d effect. The fitness well was answer’d in the speed.
The presents, added to the dame the Gen’ral did enforce,
Were twenty caldrons, tripods sev’n, twelve young and goodly horse;
Sev’n ladies excellently seen in all Minerva’s skill,
The eighth Briseis who had pow’r to ravish ev’ry will;
Twelve talents of the finest gold, all which Ulysses weigh’d
And carried first; and after him, the other youths convey’d
The other presents, tender’d all in face of all the court.
Up rose the king. Talthybius, whose voice had a report
Like to a God, call’d to the rites. There having brought the boar,
Atrides with his knife took say upon the part before,
And lifting up his sacred hands, to Jove to make his vows,
Grave silence strook the cómplete court; when, casting his high brows
Up to the broad heav’n, thus he spake: “Now witness, Jupiter,
First, highest, and thou best of Gods; thou Earth that all dost bear;
Thou Sun; ye Furies under earth that ev’ry soul torment
Whom impious perjury distains; that nought incontinent
In bed, or any other act to any slend’rest touch
Of my light vows, hath wrong’d the dame; and, let my plagues be such
As are inflicted by the Gods, in all extremity
Of whomsoever perjur’d men, if godless perjury
In least degree dishonour me.” This said, the bristled throat
Of the submitted sacrifice, with ruthless steel he cut;
Which straight into the hoary sea Talthybius cast, to feed
The sea-born nation. Then stood up the half-celestial seed
Of fair-hair’d Thetis, strength’ning thus Atrides’ innocence:
“O father Jupiter, from thee descends the confluence
Of all man’s ill; for now I see the mighty king of men
At no hand forc’d away my prise, nor first inflam’d my spleen
With any set ill in himself, but thou, the King of Gods,
Incens’d with Greece, made that the mean to all their periods.
Which now amend we as we may, and give all suffrages
To what wise Ithacus advis’d; take breakfasts, and address
For instant conflict.” Thus he rais’d the court, and all took way
To sev’ral ships. The Myrmidons the presents did convey
T’ Achilles’ fleet, and in his tents dispos’d them; doing grace
Of seat and all rights to the dames; the horses put in place
With others of Æacides. When, like love’s golden Queen,
Briseis all in ghastly wounds had dead Patroclus seen,
She fell about him, shrieking out, and with her white hands tore
Her hair, breasts, radiant cheeks, and, drown’d in warm tears, did deplore
His cruel destiny. At length she gat pow’r to express
Her violent passion, and thus spake this like-the-goddesses:
“O good Patroclus, to my life the dearest grace it had,
I, wretched dame, departing hence, enforc’d, and dying sad,
Left thee alive, when thou hadst cheer’d my poor captivity,
And now return’d I find thee dead; misery on misery
Ever increasing with my steps. The lord to whom my sire
And dearest mother gave my life in nuptials, his life’s fire
I saw before our city gates extinguish’d: and his fate
Three of my worthy brothers’ lives, in one womb generate,
Felt all in that black day of death. And when Achilles’ hand
Had slain all these, and ras’d the town Mynetes did command,
(All cause of never-ending griefs presented) thou took’st all
On thy endeavour to convert to joy as general,
Affirming, he that hurt should heal, and thou wouldst make thy friend,
Brave captain that thou wert, supply my vowéd husband’s end,
And in rich Phthia celebrate, amongst his Myrmidons,
Our nuptial banquets; for which grace, with these most worthy moans
I never shall be satiate, thou ever being kind,
Ever delightsome, one sweet grace fed still with one sweet mind.”
Thus spake she weeping; and with her, did th’ other ladies moan
Patroclus’ fortunes in pretext, but in sad truth their own.
About Æacides himself the kings of Greece were plac’d,
Entreating him to food; and he entreated them as fast,
Still intermixing words and sighs, if any friend were there
Of all his dearest, they would cease, and offer him no cheer
But his due sorrows; for before the sun had left that sky
He would not eat, but of that day sustain th’ extremity.
Thus all the kings, in res’lute grief and fasting, he dismiss’d;
But both th’ Atrides, Ithacus, and war’s old Martialist,
Idomenëus and his friend, and Phœnix, these remain’d
Endeavouring comfort, but no thought of his vow’d woe restrain’d.
Nor could, till that day’s bloody fight had calm’d his blood; he still
Remember’d something of his friend, whose good was all his ill.
Their urging meat the diligent fashion of his friend renew’d
In that excitement: “Thou,” said he, “when this speed was pursued
Against the Trojans, evermore apposedst in my tent
A pleasing breakfast; being so free, and sweetly diligent,
Thou mad’st all meat sweet. Then the war was tearful to our foe
But now to me; thy wounds so wound me, and thy overthrow;
For which my ready food I fly, and on thy longings feed.
Nothing could more afflict me; Fame relating the foul deed
Of my dear father’s slaughter, blood drawn from my sole son’s heart,
No more could wound me. Curséd man, that in this foreign part
(For hateful Helen) my true love, my country, sire, and son,
I thus should part with. Scyros now gives educatión,1
O Neoptolemus, to thee, if living yet; from whence
I hop’d, dear friend, thy longer life safely return’d from hence,
And my life quitting thine, had pow’r to ship him home, and show
His young eyes Phthia, subjects, court; my father being now
Dead, or most short-liv’d, troublous age oppressing him, and fear
Still of my death’s news.” These sad words, he blew into the ear
Of ev’ry visitant with sighs, all echo’d by the peers,
Rememb’ring who they left at home. All whose so humane tears
Jove pitied; and, since they all would in the good of one
Be much reviv’d, he thus bespake Minerva: “Thetis’ son,
Now, daughter, thou hast quite forgot. O, is Achilles care
Extinguish’d in thee? Prostrated in most extreme ill fare,
He lies before his high-sail’d fleet, for his dead friend; the rest
Are strength’ning them with meat, but he lies desp’rately oppress’d
With heartless fasting. Go thy ways, and to his breast instill
Red nectar and ambrosia, that fast procure no ill
To his near enterprise.” This spur he added to the free,
And, like a harpy, with a voice that shrieks so dreadfully,
And feathers that like needles prick’d, she stoop’d through all the stars,
Amongst the Grecians, all whose tents were now fill’d for the wars;
Her seres strook through Achilles’ tent, and closely she instill’d
Heav’n’s most-to-be-desired feast to his great breast, and fill’d
His sinews with that sweet supply, for fear unsavoury fast
Should creep into his knees. Herself the skies again enchas’d.
The host set forth, and pour’d his steel waves far out of the fleet.
And as from air the frosty north wind blows a cold thick sleet,
That dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes incessantly descending;
So thick, helms, curets, ashen darts, and round shields, never ending,
Flow’d from the navy’s hollow womb. Their splendours gave heav’n’s eye
His beams again. Earth laugh’d to see her face so like the sky;
Arms shin’d so hot, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast,
She thunder’d, feet of men and horse importun’d her so fast.
In midst of all, divine Achilles his fair person arm’d,
His teeth gnash’d as he stood, his eyes so full of fire they warm’d,
Unsuffer’d grief and anger at the Trojans so combin’d.
His greaves first us’d, his goodly curets on his bosom shin’d,
His sword, his shield that cast a brightness from it like the moon.
And as from sea sailors discern a harmful fire let run
By herdsmen’s faults, till all their stall flies up in wrestling flame;
Which being on hills is seen far off; but being alone, none came
To give it quench, at shore no neighbours, and at sea their friends
Driv’n off with tempests; such a fire, from his bright shield extends
His ominous radiance, and in heav’n impress’d his fervent blaze.
His crested helmet, grave and high, had next triumphant place
On his curl’d head, and like a star it cast a spurry ray,
About which a bright thicken’d bush of golden hair did play,
Which Vulcan forg’d him for his plume. Thus cómplete arm’d, he tried
How fit they were, and if his motion could with ease abide
Their brave instruction; and so far they were from hind’ring it,
That to it they were nimble wings, and made so light his spirit,
That from the earth the princely captain they took up to air.
Then from his armoury he drew his lance, his father’s spear,
Huge, weighty, firm, that not a Greek but he himself alone
Knew how to shake; it grew upon the mountain Pelion,
From whóse height Chiron hew’d it for his sire, and fatal ’twas
To great-soul’d men, of Peleus and Pelion surnam’d Pelias.
Then from the stable their bright horse, Automedon withdraws
And Alcymus; put poitrils on, and cast upon their jaws
Their bridles, hurling back the reins, and hung them on the seat.
The fair scourge then Automedon takes up, and up doth get
To guide the horse. The fight’s seat last, Achilles took behind;
Who look’d so arm’d as if the sun, there fall’n from heav’n, had shin’d,
And terribly thus charg’d his steeds: “Xanthus and Balius,
Seed of the Harpy, in the charge ye undertake of us,
Discharge it not as when Patroclus ye left dead in field,
But, when with blood, for this day’s fast observ’d, revenge shall yield
Our heart satiety, bring us off.” Thus, since Achilles spake
As if his aw’d steeds understood, ’twas Juno’s will to make
Vocal the palate of the one; who, shaking his fair head,
(Which in his mane, let fall to earth, he almost buried)
Thus Xanthus spake: “Ablest Achilles, now, at least, our care
Shall bring thee off; but not far hence the fatal minutes are
Of thy grave ruin. Nor shall we be then to be reprov’d,
But mightiest Fate, and the great God. Nor was thy best belov’d
Spoil’d so of arms by our slow pace, or courage’s impair;
The best of Gods, Latona’s son, that wears the golden hair,
Gave him his death’s wound; though the grace he gave to Hector’s hand.
We, like the spirit of the west, that all spirits can command
For pow’r of wing, could run him off; but thou thyself must go,
So fate ordains; God and a man must give thee overthrow.”
This said, the Furies stopp’d his voice. Achilles, far in rage,
Thus answer’d him: “It fits not thee, thus proudly to presage
My overthrow. I know myself, it is my fate to fall
Thus far from Phthia; yet that fate shall fail to vent her gall,
Till mine vent thousands.” These words us’d, he fell to horrid deeds,
Gave dreadful signal, and forthright made fly his one-hoof’d steeds.
THE END OF THE NINETEENTH BOOK.

1 Scyros was an isle in the sea Ægeum, where Achilles himself was brought up, as well as his son.